Who Let The Wolves Out?
by kerigocrazy
Summary: Ever wondered how the pack really feels about Sam's performance as Alpha? Want to know what happens when the boys light up and discuss vampire sex? How about when Charlie and Billy embark on a clandestine mission to spy on the kids? You've come to the right place. A series of humorous pack-centered O/S's for The Twilight Twenty-Five challenge, Round 7.
1. Blowing Smoke

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **The pack lights up and discusses vampire sexual prowess. Who really has it better?

**A/N: **This is a series of 25 O/S's written for the Twilight Twenty-Five challenge, twenty-five prompts over the course of three months. Each piece, although all are humorous pack-centered stories, stands completely alone. Thanks to my husband for pinch-hitting as beta on this one. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**Fic rec:** Bluebird by meliz875. Check out my review on to see what it's all about.

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
**

**Prompt: ****13. ********The grass is always greener on the other side.****  
Pen Name: kerigocrazy  
Pairing/Character(s): Quil/Paul & various other pack members  
Rating: M **

**Rated for language, dirty talkin', and drug use.**

"**Blowing Smoke"**

Quil stuffed and rolled with the precision of a scientist, tight packing made for a longer smoke. For someone who was such a goof when it came to almost everything, he took his blunts seriously, thank you very much.

"Christ man," Paul growled, "just lick it and stick it."

"Patience, Lahote. This is just like eating pussy. You do it right the first time, so you don't have to delay your gratification."

A silent air of agreement filtered through the room. No need to spend an hour rationing your breath, when you could be buried balls deep in a fraction of the time.

"Done," Quil crowed. "Yo Em, pass me the light."

The quiet boy tossed him a white bic and he held the lighter up to the end, rotating amidst short puffs until it caught. "Yeah baby, that's perfection right there."

"Right, wonderful, you are the master. Now pass it here, cocksucker," Paul grunted, kicking a leg in Quil's direction, but missing due to a staunch refusal to move from his sprawling position on the couch.

After a final, long inhale, Quil passed his masterpiece on. "No need to get your panties in a knot, Lahote."

It was on the third pass that Quil got distracted by the smooth white lighter in his hand. "Like marble," he muttered randomly.

Embry, turned chatty from the weed, swiveled the recliner toward his best friend. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"How come the vamps have it so much better?"

"Dude, are you high?" lazy laughter circled the room. "Shit. Right, you are. But you know what I mean. How can you possibly think the leeches have it better? They're human shaped mosquitoes."

Quil turned excitedly to his friends, his large hands gesticulating wildly. "No, don't you see? They get all the good perks and none of the draw backs. Exhibit A: When's the last time you woke up in the morning _not _soaked in sweat?"

"You gotta point there," Paul muttered. "Last time I forgot to kick a girl out, we woke up glued together. Fucking disgusting."

Nodding his head, Quil continued, "But the vamps? They're a toasty negative dead degrees. They don't sweat, period. And if we're discussing sex, let's talk about the fact that the bastards don't have to sleep. Nothing but hours and hours. Shit, days and weeks, of sweet, sweet lovin'."

"Dude," Embry breathed. This was like, epic. Nirvana was nothing but pussy for the foreseeable future, without ever having to worry about passing out and suffocating.

Paul could see it now. "Hey, what if your girl was the vamp?"

The other two stared at him in confusion.

"C'mon morons, think." Blank stares. "They don't have to breath."

"Holy."

"Shit."

A moment of silence filtered through the smoke laden room. "That's beautiful man," Quil said, eyes tearing up.

"Yeah." Embry had a wistful smile on his face. "Beautiful."

The next few passes were silent, but they found ways to keep themselves entertained. Paul gave his tongue a workout, he'd forgotten to do his reps this morning and the man never missed his daily cunnilingus drills. Embry was still focused on the idea of vampire blow jobs. If he ignored the possibility of frostbite on his delicates, he could definitely picture that haughty blonde chick with hollowed out cheeks. Quil was attempting, and failing, to blow smoke rings. Failure didn't phase him though; he was nothing if not optimistic.

"Dude, dude! What about the hair?"

"Seth? Where the fuck did you come from?" Paul shouted, a brief bout of paranoia had him leaning over the back of the couch in search of other stealth intruders.

"That's not important. What's important is the hair. If you're frozen as you are after they bite you, what if a chick gets bitten right after a Brazilian?"

Sweet, smooth pussy, Paul marveled. He was completely dazzled by the idea. No razor burn or unfortunate stubble marring the landscape. "You'd never have to worry about picking your teeth afterward again."

"The great Protectors," Leah said. "This is a sad day for our tribe. It's like a massive bottle of pride be gone."

Embry raised his hand, a respectful look on his slack face.

"Um, yeah?"

"Did the Clearwater genes come with some sort of super invisibility powers? Cause you totally weren't there, like two seconds ago, and now I'm all like, whoa, cause here you are. Am I right?"

Paul, Quil, and weirdly Seth, who was mostly focused on holding his breath, nodded in agreement.

"I have no idea what you just said. I've been here the whole time though, dumb ass."

Two hours later, they had raided Embry's kitchen. Quil sat cross legged on the floor surrounded by peanut shells, laughing hysterically. "Do you see it? Hey, you guys? Do you see it? I ate sooo many peanuts. Heh, nuts."

"Cheese Puffs are where it's at man," Embry said in all seriousness, inspecting his day glo orange fingers. "Don't you know anything?"

"I've got it," Leah broke in. "About the vampires."

It was like she set off a bomb. The boys were up in arms in no time flat, searching frantically for the threat. Paul had managed to remove his cut offs in one fell swoop, but seemed to stall on the actual phasing part. Instead, he stood there waving free and proud, and attempted to look menacing. Once his gaze fell on Leah's low cut top, he mostly looked to be standing at attention.

"At ease, stooges," Leah howled. "I was talking about the vampire sex thing."

"Oh, right," The boys muttered, resuming their previous positions, Paul minus his pants and not seeming to care.

"Anyway, what I was saying was that the pros just don't outweigh the cons in this situation. First of all, they're basically walking, talking rocks."

"So?" Quil asked, wondering if you could consider a vampire a pet rock. Cause that could be cool.

"You know that whole nails on a chalkboard thing?" The boys shuddered. Their hearing was _really _sensitive. "Now think about that noise every thrust."

Paul was no longer happy to be swinging free.

"Yup." Leah's voice was smug. "Do you think a vamp can even come? I mean if they don't have blood, can they still have jizz? And wouldn't it be like, frozen?"

"No," Embry moaned, cupping his boys.

"Uh-huh, and if that's what's lubing the passage ways, I can't imagine a vamp chicks vajayjay would feel real welcoming. I mean, their venom scars each other, so I'm guessing they're all walking around with dicks riddled with scar tissue."

Quil's face had gone completely white. "Why are you such a dream killer Leah? You are the reaper of happy."

Jesus, she mentally scoffed, was the pansy crying? "I'm just saying. Not so bad to be a hot-blooded, breathing wolf now, huh?"

Paul stood up and walked determinedly toward the door.

"Where you going man?" Quil called.

"To find something to stick it in," Paul called over his shoulder.

The three remaining boys stared before standing up and walking in separate directions. After that total buzz kill, it was time to make sure the equipment still worked.

Leah smiled, grasping the roach in her hand. It was good to be a woman. Idiots.


	2. All Used Up

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Leah goes into heat and Paul takes one for the team. Can the pack bitch really wear out the resident man whore?

**A/N: **Thanks to my husband for pinch-hitting as beta on this one. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.This one's my birthday present to myself. Who wouldn't want the chance to wear Paul out?

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
**

**Prompt: ********5. No pain, no gain.****  
Pen Name: kerigocrazy  
Pairing/Character(s): Leah/Paul  
Rating: M **

**Rated for language and smut.**

"**All Used Up"**

The minute Paul walked into Sam's living room for the pack meeting, he was assaulted by the sweetest smell. It was salt and sex and it was coming from...

"Jesus, Leah. What the hell is that?" Quil whined, shifting in his seat.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she muttered, crossing her arms to cover her rock hard nipples.

Sam cleared his throat and stood to get everyone's attention. "Alright, it's been quiet for the past little while, so we're going to lighten up the patrol load..."

Whatever. Paul couldn't care less about vampires right now. He needed to know what was going on with Leah. Right fucking now.

"You get laid recently?"

"No, Lahote. Not that it's any of your fucking business."

"But Leah," Embry cut in. "You smell like, um, sex."

"You know what? Fuck all of you. I'm out." She stomped out the front door, a mutinous look on her face.

Jacob looked around the room and grinned. "I know what this is."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Don't you remember my dad talking about heat cycles?"

"Son of a bitch," Embry breathed.

"Yeah," Quil agreed. "Leah's in heat."

Seth buried his head in his hands and groaned. "You guys! That's my sister."

For all the things morphing into a mutant wolf had taken away, Paul was pretty sure this made it all better. He lost himself in visions of Leah spread-eagle and naked beneath him. Cinnamon colored skin glistening with sweat, husky voice begging him to fuck her harder. Oh yeah.

"Well, what are we gonna do?" Sam asked, clearly uncomfortable with discussing his ex like this.

"I got this."

"I'm sorry, Paul? You've got what?"

"I'll take care of the Leah situation, Sam. Don't worry about it." He rose from his perch on the uncomfortable floral couch Emily recently bought to replace their beloved plaid monstrosity and sauntered out the door.

"Don't forget to bring her chocolate," Quil yelled after him.

"Dude," Embry said, smacking him on the back of the head. "She's horny, it's not her period."

"So?"

"So," Sam growled out, clenching his fists. "He's going to fuck her, not bring her candy."

"Oh. Cool, he's taking one for the team."

"Christ," Sam muttered before stomping out of the room in search of Emily.

Meanwhile, Paul was on the hunt. He found her on her back porch, reading a bodice ripper and rubbing her legs together. Oh, baby.

"I can help you with your little problem."

Startled, she dropped her book and crossed her legs. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"C'mon sweetheart, don't be shy. You need somebody to help you scratch that itch, and I'm just the man for a little no strings fun."

She stared at him for a minute, studying his face before checking him out. "Fine. But don't call me sweetheart."

"What ever you say, baby." He swaggered into the house.

The first time was wild. It was all teeth and nails and wordless moaning as he slammed her up against the wall in her childhood bedroom. She screamed his name after the third orgasm and it just spurred him on.

"Your parents?" he'd asked, during the third round, when he had her sprawled across the kitchen table, covered in chocolate syrup.

"Gone for three weeks. Visiting family."

"Perfect," he breathed as he sank balls deep.

They fucked their way through everything he could remember of the kama sutra and then some positions he was sure she invented out of thin air. By the fifth day, his balls ached and he was so goddamned tired he couldn't see straight.

For the first time in his entire life, he tried to claim a headache. He lay sprawled out on her full-sized bed, focusing on nothing but breathing.

"Paul?"

"My head hurts, Leah."

"Don't be such a pussy."

He was _not _a pussy. He still couldn't bring himself to roll over though.

"Fine. You just lay there and take it like a man."

"What?" This didn't sound good. His dick needed a break.

She rolled over on top of him and proceeded to ride him with a wild abandon that he would've considered beautiful if it weren't seriously cutting in on his nap time. Figuring she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted, he reached a hand down and found her sweet spot, rubbing small circles until she collapsed against him on a long moan.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Then he was out.

_Two Weeks Later..._

He made it all the way to the front porch this time, staggering bare-footed.

"Jesus, man," Quil said. He'd been preparing to knock on the door since they hadn't heard from either of them in so long. "What happened to you."

"Do not go in there. In fact, run while you still can."

This was his third escape attempt in as many days. The woman was trying to kill him.

Quil started laughing hysterically. "Oh my god, Paul Lahote, sex god of La Push, has been taken down by Leah freakin' Clearwater. Man, this is a sad, sad day."

"Fuck you, Ateara. My dick is staging a retreat. Please get me out of here. I'm so hungry," he moaned. "Look." He lifted up his shirt to show his now prominent ribs.

"Jesus."

"Paul?"

"Shit, shit, shit. She's awake. Seriously, man. I can't take anymore. There's no more love to give."

The door opened behind him and his head fell in defeat.

"There you are. I was thinking about grocery shopping. We're pretty much out of food. Want anything?" She smiled at him, brushing her hand down his forearm.

Quil was confused. Who is this pod person wearing Leah's (admittedly luminous) skin.

"Um, can you make spaghetti?" Paul ventured. He was pretty fucking confused himself. When did the scary sex monster get replaced by the sweet girl in front of him.

"Sure." She stretched up to press a kiss to his lips before heading out. "Oh hey, Quil. You wanna stay for dinner?"

"Uh, sure." This was most definitely the twilight zone.

"Alright, behave yourselves boys."

They watched in silence as she walked away, a pronounced sway to her hips.

"Dude, you fucked the angry right out of Leah Clearwater."

Paul collapsed in a heap on the porch and gave a wide smile. "I _am_ the man."


	3. Puppy Dog Tails and Vampire Trails

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Quil ponders the awesomeness of being a shape shifter during patrol and gets caught up in the glory of a good belly rub.

**A/N: **Thanks to my husband for pinch-hitting as beta for these. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
**

**Prompt: ********14. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link.****  
Pen Name: kerigocrazy  
Pairing/Character(s): Quil  
Rating: M**

**Rated for language.**

"**Puppy Dog Tails and Vampire Trails"**

It was a good day to be on patrol. Emily had fed him a huge breakfast this morning, including his favorites (french toast and sausage), and there hadn't been a single muffin in sight. His grandfather was already gone when he woke up, so he wasn't forced to deal with yet another "You must grow up and take responsibility" speech, and his mom wasn't due home from her latest business trip for another week. That meant cake for dinner and action movie marathons all weekend. Oh yes, life for Quil Ateara was good.

After a run around the perimeter, he settled down on the border along the south side to sun himself. Everything was perfectly idyllic until he got an itch smack dab in the middle of his back. Lifting his back leg, he made a valiant attempt to scratch it.

_C'mon, c'mon, just a little bit further._

It was to no avail. Finally, he whipped his massive, furred head around and went at it with his teeth.

_Ah, yeah. That's it. So freakin' good._

Since becoming a werewolf, he'd been forced to listen to the pack's incessant bitching about everything they lost. Everybody but him seemed to think it sucked to be an awesome mythological creature.

Quil didn't get it.

First of all, they ran a nice, toasty 108 degrees, so he never had to worry about being cold or buying a new winter coat again. And the ladies? Yeah, they totally dug a human space heater.

Let's not forget the insane metabolism either. When he'd first started working out, at the tender age of 11, he'd eaten nothing but leafy green shit and protein shakes for months. At one point, he almost tackled Embry for a bite of his Big Mac. Embarrassing.

But now? He ate all day, every day. There were visions of fried Twinkies and chocolate syrup straight from the bottle dancing through his head. No love handles here, thankyouverymuch.

Yeah, he was a _prime_ physical specimen. Abs of steel baby. Not to mention the fact that he'd totally just scratched an itch in the middle of his back—with his face. Can regular people do that? No. They have to shimmy against walls or ask people to get it for them. To the left. A little further.

Not this guy here, he was all sorts of flexible. Quil was momentary distracted by an in depth comparison of shifters and Gumby. He was pretty sure shifters won.

Anyway, it's important to take these new bodies into consideration, when discussing the benefits of becoming a man-beast (in Leah's case a lady-beast). His new gargantuan height had multiple benefits. Nobody ever talked smack to the 6' 5" dude with no neck, even if he was mackin' on their girl. Guys just kinda bowed out with clenched jaws and trembling hands. Seriously, you gonna challenge John Cena for the rights to your girl? Yeah, nobody wanted to test their friendly neighborhood protectors on that score either.

And the ladies loved it. Their big, strong bodies had them reminiscing about the heroes on those romance novels they pretended not to read. Quil wasn't above a little role play either. He'll shiver your timbers anytime.

Even his mom loved how tall he was. He'd, unfortunately, become dish bitch in his house, but being the only one capable of reaching the tall shelves was a small price to pay for home cooking three times a day.

He could totally get behind the beauty of being two parts man's best friend too. When he was a kid, he'd been fascinated by the family dog. The thing had it _made_. Red (the dog) spent his days napping in leisure, eating anything and everything he could get his hands on, playing and forcing everyone else to entertain him, chasing cars, and marking his territory. What's bad about that?

Quil had quickly discovered how incredible it was to run at superhuman speeds through the forests surrounding La Push. His fur blowing in the breeze, his best friends sharing in his happy times. Once, after a particularly vigorous run, he'd been starving and his mom and Emily were both unavailable. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so he'd sucked it up and eaten a two-week old pizza straight out of Paul's fridge. When he was finished, he curled up in wolf form and waited for the stomach cramps.

They never came.

His stomach was now steel-lined. Fuckin' A.

Even better was the fact that the imprints got all mushy when the boys showed up in all wolfed out. It didn't matter how pissed they were, if you showed up furry, they were all about the tummy rubs. Man, there's nothing like a good scratchin'; he didn't even care about the weird baby talk they cooed at him when they did it. Kim, especially, had a way with those tiny hands. He was pretty sure Jared was gonna kill him the next time he got caught in a good cuddle session with her though. It might be worth it.

Throughout his musings, he'd felt the rest of the pack phase in, one by one, but he had blocked them out. This was important shit.

So it took him completely by surprise when a large form barreled into him from the left.

_What the fuck, man?_

Sam growled low and smacked him upside the head with a paw the size of a large dinner plate. _That's my question dipshit. You were supposed to be patrolling._

_I was! Nothing came through here._

_Really? Nothing at all?_

Quil was getting a bad feeling about this line of questioning. He couldn't have missed a vampire, could he?

_Apparently you could. I have no idea how a corpse reeking of sugared bleach managed to waltz passed your eagle eye, but it got within twenty feet of the Chief's house before Collin and Brady took it out._

Uh-oh. The pack's youngest were not supposed to engage.

_Yeah, uh-oh. You have anything to say for yourself?_

_Um...maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be._

_What?_

Quil heaved a sigh and took off to do another perimeter run before Sam could think to chastise him physically anymore. _Being a shape shifter._


	4. Satisfactory Performance

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Sam wants to know how the pack feels about his performance, so he makes them take an anonymous survey.

**A/N: **Thanks to my husband for pinch-hitting as beta on this one. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
**

**Prompt: ********10. Curiosity killed the cat.****  
Pen Name: kerigocrazy  
Pairing/Character(s): Sam  
Rating: M **

**Rated for language.**

"**Satisfactory Performance"**

Sam thought he did a pretty good job of keeping the unruly pack of mutts in line. But an offhand comment made by a council member at the last meeting had him wondering if his performance was less than satisfactory. Emily had just forced him through yet another "What kind of boyfriend are you?" quiz, courtesy of Cosmo, and it had given him a brilliant idea.

Saturday morning, bright and early, the pack gathered in their Alpha's living room for a pre-patrol meeting. They were not prepared for what they found. Each wolf was given a typed up sheet of paper and a number two pencil when they arrived (Sam thought the pencils made things seem more official).

"What's this?" Seth asked, only half awake and completely confused.

"This is an anonymous performance evaluation. I'd like each of you to answer the questions completely and honestly, so that I can improve on my job as Alpha. I won't know which survey belongs to who, so please write what you really think."

Quil scratched his head before piping up, "Um, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"This is kinda weird."

"Just shut up and fill out the fucking paper."

"Sir, yes sir!"

The boys and Leah got down to business and an hour later Sam was alone in his living room with a neat stack of paper in front of him. _Here we go_, he thought.

_Survey #1_

1. How do you feel about your Alpha's ability to lead you into battle?

You're pretty cool when it comes to the physical stuff. But after you got tagged in the ass last week for mooning over your weekend getaway with Emily, I'm wondering if somebody else shouldn't be in charge of training. You know, somebody who puts the pussy back in the box at the end of the night.

2. Do you feel like you can come to your Alpha with your personal problems?

Totally! Except, well, last time I tried to talk to you about something, I accidentally interrupted you right after you found out Em was ovulating. I completely understand that you need to work with her body's schedule to knock her up, but I think the broken nose and the harsh words were a little excessive. I was forced to turn to Paul and I ended up getting smacked by the girl I needed advice for too.

3. Does your Alpha's house feel like home to you?

Yeah, but I think that's mostly Emily. That time she went to visit family for a week, you fed us burnt mac and cheese and rubbery hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I know for a fact you gave the younger members a stomachache that lasted for days, and somebody (I won't name names) totally blew chunks all over the chief's shoes. So...maybe Emily should stay home from now on.

4. Do you think there's someone who could do a better job than your current Alpha?

No way dude, you're like the definition of awesome. Although...I was just thinking the other day that if anybody were to get the job as Emperor of the Universe, it should totally be me. I've got like mad interpersonal skills, and it's completely my doing that Kim finally let Jared enter through the back door. I'm just sayin', if you ever get tired of being top dog, I'm your man/wolf.

_Survey #2_

1. How do you feel about your Alpha's ability to lead you into battle?

This is, quite possibly, the stupidest idea I've ever heard. Fuck it, since you've now Alpha ordered me to do this, you are awesome on the battle field! OMG! I couldn't picture anyone else leading us into the woods. Dumb ass.

2. Do you feel like you can come to your Alpha with your personal problems?

Considering the fact that most of my personal problems were directly caused by you? No.

3. Does your Alpha's house feel like home to you?

Your stepford wife completely freaks me out. And seriously, what the fuck's up with the muffins?

4. Do you think there's someone who could do a better job than your current Alpha?

There's obviously an excess of testosterone in this pack. I say put your dicks on ice and let me show you how it's done. Amateurs.

_Survey #3_

1. How do you feel about your Alpha's ability to lead you into battle?

You're a little aggressive for my tastes. I mean, vampires were once people too. Repeat after me: Violence is not the answer. Can't we all just get along?

2. Do you feel like you can come to your Alpha with your personal problems?

I really do. But I hear Quil got his nose broken again. I just want you to know, that if you need some informal counseling for that anger management issue, I've got your back. We're all family here.

3. Does your Alpha's house feel like home to you?

Of course! I mean, my mom's cooking is better, but Emily's done a great job giving this place those homey little touches. I'm a little uncomfortable with the recent influx of doilies though. What's up with that?

4. Do you think there's someone who could do a better job than your current Alpha?

No, I think you're definitely the best man for the job. If you'd ever like to get a little more in touch with your sensitive side though, you know where to find me. I hear Quil got his nose broken again. Violence is never the answer, man.

_Survey #4_

1. How do you feel about your Alpha's ability to lead you into battle?

Yeah, yeah, you're a freakin' ninja. What I want to know is how come training sessions start so early and last for so damn long? It's a little hard to keep my dates in line, when I have to kick a chick out of bed at the ass crack of dawn so I can come wrestle with you idiots. Don't you want me to get laid, bro?

2. Do you feel like you can come to your Alpha with your personal problems?

I don't have any personal problems. And if I did, I'd obviously consult my little black book. There's no better way into a woman's panties than a sob story and a tear or two. Jesus, you'd think we all sat around at these meetings braiding each other's hair. Do you need help locating your balls, man?

3. Does your Alpha's house feel like home to you?

There's a distinct lack of welcoming pussy here, so no. Now, if I could just talk Leah around, I'm thinking I'd be pretty comfortable here. Angry sex is the best.

4. Do you think there's someone who could do a better job than your current Alpha?

Face it man, I'm obviously the better wolf. No harm, no foul though. I don't have time to ride herd on these cocksuckers. Keep doing what you do.

_That's it._ Sam crumbled the unread surveys into a ball with the others and stomped into the kitchen to throw them in the trash. He was surrounded by morons, obviously.

"Hey, baby?" Emily's husky voice drifted down the hall.

Yeah, that was totally her "I'm horny, so come ravish me voice."

"Did you need something, sweetheart," he asked, already tugging off his pants.

"My temperature's up."

And, there went his erection.


	5. Do We Have To?

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Bella and Jacob are constantly pestered to have babies, but they've held out admirably for ten long years. Now, as they're surrounded by their pack mate's numerous progeny, they wonder if they'll ever take the plunge.

**A/N: **Thanks to the bestest husband ever for beta-ing this for me. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Also, I have officially written something not rated M. *stands and waits for the flaming toilet seat to take me down* I know, right? It's a miracle.

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
**

**Prompt: ********7. Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread.****  
Pen Name: kerigocrazy  
Pairing/Character(s): Jacob/Bella  
Rating: T to be safe.**

"**Do we have to?"**

Bella and Jacob Black had held strong for years; there would be no babies, no way, no how, not any time soon. Their fellow wolfy couples had started popping them out years ago and the spotlight got turned on them, the minute he put a ring on her finger.

They enjoyed the opportunity to play favorite aunt and uncle, spoiling the various little ones with gifts and sugar, but they hadn't spent much time one on one with any of the youngest, preferring mostly to spend their days surrounded by adults, working, traveling and loving each other. So, today was a new experience for the couple.

Their ten year anniversary was the following weekend, and they'd made a deal with Sam and Emily to use their vacation cabin in exchange for babysitting their five (count 'em five) children on date night this evening. They ranged in age from an eleven-year-old self-proclaimed Don Juan, down to a four-month-old who smelled heavily of breast milk.

Jake wasn't sure the trade-off was worth it.

At half past six, they knocked on the door, trepidation seeping from their very pores. The last time Jake had been left alone with one of this brood, he'd ended up hog-tied to a tree—in nothing but his underwear. This was an especially impressive feat for a pair of five year old twins, considering he was a werewolf.

He'd come home traumatized and sure that they were actually the Devil's spawn. Nothing Bella said could convince him otherwise.

"Oh, good," Emily said upon answering the door. "I was hoping you guys would be a bit early, so I could go over everything with you."

She ushered them inside and toward the kitchen, effortlessly skirting around a complicated maze of muddy rain boots, skateboards, and what appeared to be an army of toy robots.

"I want—"

"No."

"But Bells," Jake whined. Those looked _really _cool.

And people wondered why she wasn't ready for kids, Bella thought. Most days it seemed like she already had one. It didn't help matters that most of the adults in the pack used her house as an escape from their own child-infested homes. Kids didn't seem like such a great idea when she was wiping piss stains off the wallpaper in the bathroom from the bad aim of grown men and trying to figure out how to get Emily's homemade blackberry jam off her ceiling. She still had no idea how that even happened.

Her musings were broken by the realization that Emily was talking. Focusing back in on her surroundings, she realized that the other woman's sizzling outfit was broken up with a sling holding their youngest. Which was pretty cool, considering the fact that she now had both hands free to put in her earrings.

"The freezer is full of breast milk, all you need to do is defrost it in warm water before serving. Bella, you'll need to test it on your skin to make sure it's not too warm. The guys temperature makes that pretty difficult."

That made sense. "How often does she need to eat?"

"She generally eats every three hours or so, but she'll probably be in need of extra comfort tonight with me gone. If she seems hungry, go ahead and try a bottle. It can't hurt. The rest of the kids have had dinner, but they'll probably want a snack before bed. There's popcorn if you want to watch a movie. And, of course, you know you're welcome to anything for yourselves."

Jacob's stomach chose that moment to let out a muted roar. "Thanks, Em," he muttered sheepishly.

She grinned before jumping back into her, obviously well-practiced, spiel. "Phone numbers are on the fridge. You know our cells, but they're there in case you forget. I also wrote down the pediatrician's number, my mom's number, and poison control. Oh, and the hospital's non-emergency number. They're good with questions about whether a cheerio up the nose is considered a life-threatening emergency."

So, no cheerios then. Bella and Jake nodded at each other; they were obviously in agreement on this one.

"If you can't get a hold of us, for any reason, go ahead and call Kim or Leah. They'll be able to help in a pinch. Since there's no school tomorrow, Sammy and Leanna have a ten pm bedtime. The twins need to go down at eight thirty, and the baby doesn't really have a set bed time, although I usually try to lay her down around the same time as the twins if she's being cooperative. Don't be alarmed if the twins wake back up. They still crawl into our bed a lot, mostly for reassurance, so all you'll have to do is lay down with them for a bit and they should drift off to sleep."

Bella leaned into Jacob, searching for reassurance herself. She was beginning to wonder if they were capable of pulling this off. This seemed more complicated than her dissertation.

"Oh, don't look like that. You'll be fine, I promise. Besides, better to learn now, before you have little ones of your own," Emily said, with a mischievous grin.

Not freakin' likely, Jake thought, eyeing the tuft of black hair rising from the sling. Not likely at all.

"They're already in their pjs and they've had baths, so they'll just need to do their teeth before bed. The older two can do their own, but the twins need it done for them. And don't worry about the baby."

"We ready to go?" Sam asked, walking into the kitchen, seemingly unaware of the child attached to each leg.

"Yup." Emily pressed a kiss to the infant's head and passed her, sling and all, to Bella. "If you wear her, she'll probably stay calm for you."

Bella liked the sound of calm, so she struggled her way into the sling, all the while wondering when a baby had become an accessory you could wear. She was pretty sure it was somehow un-PC to refer to a child the way you would a hand-tooled leather bag.

The couple breezed out of the house at warp speed, leaving Bella and Jake staring at the twin's deceptively innocent faces, while still trying to commit Emily's battery of instructions to memory. The sound of the older two children fighting drifted down the stairs.

Jake turned to Bella with a resigned expression. "Divide and conquer?"

She nodded. "I'll go deal with the squabble. You want to start a movie for these guys? Maybe pop some popcorn? Their bedtime's in half-an-hour."

"Go team," he muttered, pecking her on the lips before ushering the little ones into the living room.

What followed would forever be categorized as one of the most traumatic events of their lives. Sam and Emily arrived home just before midnight to a house filled with a haunted silence, similar to the way a war zone felt after the last bomb detonated.

"I'll check on the kids," Sam murmured.

Emily nodded and headed into the kitchen, where she found her reluctant babysitters. "Oh, my."

Their eyes were glazed and they sat, slumped, across from each other at the kitchen table. Bella clutched a bottle of Jack Daniels in her fist.

She met Emily's eyes and gave a slight shudder. "Oh, good. Does this mean we're off the clock?"

"Yes," Emily agreed.

Not wasting precious time on words, Bella twisted the top of the bottle, breaking the seal, and chugged a sip before passing it to her dazed husband.

"It can't have been that bad," Emily said, giggling lightly. "It was only for a few hours."

"So you say," Jake muttered, in between large gulps. "I don't know how you do it, Em."

Sitting down at the table, once Sam joined them with a nod to tell her the kids were alive and well, Emily shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't a big deal. Kids were kids.

"I see that look, you know," Bella said. "The one that says we're exaggerating things, and it's actually as easy as pie. I'm pretty sure you're insane though. Did you know your baby gave me a hickey?"

Sam snorted a laugh at Emily's startled look. "Yeah, she's done that to me too. Rooting."

"I figured. It was just a little weird to have a sweet little baby all of a sudden clamp down on my boob, you know? And I spent a whole hour mediating a dispute between Sammy and Leanna about who a square of plastic wrap belonged to."

The two parents winced a bit at that. They'd been in the middle of one of those battles numerous times. Last week it had been over a handful of carpet fibers.

"Jake probably got the worst of it though," Bella added.

"Oh?"

He raised his cheek up from the table and Emily was hard pressed to hold in her giggles. The left side of his face was covered in scribbles drawn with what looked to be a permanent marker.

"Oh, dear. I'm so...sorry."

"Yeah, yeah laugh it up. This is your fault. Jack woke up, so I went to lay down with him like you said, only I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I figured all was good, since he was sleeping like an angel. I saw this when I went into the bathroom. How the hell does it come off? I can't go to work like this tomorrow."

"Nail polish remover should work," Emily sputtered, between laughs.

"My pre-bedtime conversation with Lacey makes this seem like nothing, though. Should a five-year-old girl know what a penis is? 'Cause she followed me into the bathroom and I didn't realize it. Said mine was different than her Daddy's." Jake's face flamed bright red at the admission.

"Sorry about that," Sam muttered, blushing himself and glaring at Emily, who was constantly advocating full honesty when their kids had questions. They'd run into a similar problem with the preschool teacher, when their precocious daughter was caught doing the same thing to her male classmates. "So, um, thanks guys. You know, maybe you should take an extra few days at the cabin. We won't be needing it."

"Yeah, thanks," Jake said. He rose from the chair and walked around the table to help up his thoroughly tipsy wife.

Their entire ride home was silent, as was their bedtime ritual. They lay side by side that night, stiff as boards in an effort not to touch each other.

"Should we...?"

"No," Bella said, her voice firm. "I may never have sex with you again."

"Oh, good," he breathed, letting his eyes fall shut. "And that whole biting thing. It stays between us right?"

Remembering the look on his face when she stopped him, an inch away from biting a preschooler back in retaliation, she stifled a giggle. The thought that he might share the fact that she'd been unable to control her gag reflex and vomited on the baby kept her in line, though. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear."


	6. Let it Rip

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Leah talks Paul into a wax and consoles him after.

**A/N: **Thanks to my husband for beta'ing on this one. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. I've never witnessed a male waxing session, so I may have taken some liberties with the order of operations. I feel like I should apologize for what's to come...I'll make it up to him in the future, promise.

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
**

**Prompt: ********16. Mind over matter.****  
Pen Name: kerigocrazy  
Pairing/Character(s): Leah/Paul  
Rating: M **

**Rated for language, smut, and crotch trauma.**

"**Let it Rip"**

It started innocently enough. Leah had gone to a pack meeting post-wax and the delicate way she was walking, in an effort to spare her tender lady bits further torture, didn't go unnoticed by the pack's resident Lothario.

He watched her...and wondered.

After they were dismissed, he followed her silently, until she had enough and turned around to snap his head off. "What the fuck do you want, Lahote?"

Paul tilted his head to the side, in a startlingly canine gesture, and asked, "Why are you walking like that?"

It was the first time he could remember Leah Clearwater _blushing._ Now he had to know.

"C'mon, Leah. You can tell me." He attempted to bat his lashes, realized that was completely ridiculous, and did what he did best—he invaded her personal space. Unfortunately, she was aware of his modus operandi.

"Really? Are you really trying to dazzle me with your sex pheromones? You forget that I've spent way too much time inside your head?"

There was no time for this; Paul got more and more frustrated as his admittedly limited patience was tested. "Please?"

"Ugh. You're such a nosey fucker. I just got waxed."

Paul's ears perked right up at that tasty little tidbit. "What, exactly, did you get waxed?"

Right. Like she was really gonna answer that.

"It still doesn't explain why you're walking like that. Is it like getting your clit pierced? Are you attempting to stave off a spontaneous orgasm?"

"Um, no. Sorry to shoot down your dreams there, Don Juan, but having your pubic hairs ripped out by the roots kinda fucking hurts. And my vagina is a little sore at the moment. Any other questions?"

Why she thought sarcasm would shame him into stopping his line of questioning, she had no idea. Paul Lahote didn't understand the meaning of embarrassment. Or propriety.

"I could kiss it better?"

"In your dreams," she snorted.

He husked a laugh and moved in closer, subtly (but not subtly enough for her not to notice) rubbing against her. "C'mon, Leah. You're a werewolf. It can't be that bad."

"Oh, yeah? You think you could handle it, stud?"

"Yeah. I know I can handle it." He'd never admit it, but he may have puffed his chest out a little to punctuate that statement. He was _all_ man, baby.

An unholy grin overtook her face, one that managed to shake even Paul's rock-solid confidence.

"Game. On."

That's how, just an hour later, Paul found himself wearing a pastel pink paper gown, sitting on a table with intimidating metal stirrups on the bottom, and inhaling the scent of warm vanilla cookies while he waited for a stranger to come and rip the hair off his balls. His little soldiers were scouting for higher ground, but Leah stood behind him with a hand clamped down on his shoulder and a smug grin splashed across her face.

There was no escape.

A small, innocuous woman came into the room, pulling on a bright purple, latex glove with a resounding snap. That sound seemed to shrivel his dick right up.

_You can do this Lahote. Just think about the ladies; they'll spend so much time sucking you off after this, you won't have time to line up the next date. You. Are. Not. A. Pussy._

"Alright sir, if you'd just lay down and place your feet in the stirrups, we'll get started." She lifted the lid off of a pot of molten goo, and he decided he just couldn't watch anymore.

"This will be warm," she warned, sounding way too cheerful for the gravity of the situation.

And then his nuts were on fire. Holymotherofgod, it burned. Which made absolutely no sense, considering his internal temperature ran higher than they'd make the wax; he refused to consider it could be psychosomatic.

The heat didn't matter for long of course. For a split second, as small hands patted and smoothed a wax strip, he thought that this wasn't so bad. He was getting a free grope by a not unattractive woman. Then she let it rip.

The high-pitched, wailing scream that tore it's way out of his throat was a sound he never thought himself capable of making. But when the sadistic bitch between his legs pulled back the cloth, he was pretty sure she kept on pulling till his boys were hanging completely separate from his body.

At that point, shock set in and the rest of the torture session was silent except for the pathetic whimpers and pained moans at each pull. Well, that and the evil snickering Leah couldn't seem to control. There would be words.

When that sensitive spot just below his beloved jewels and right before the place he'd firmly marked as "exit only" met the hot wax, that Paul realized things could be worse. He found himself attempting to crawl backward up the table, away from the pain. But the tiny woman was deceptively strong; she pinned him to the table with one hand on his thigh, while she worked a giant popscicle stick across his quickly shriveling flesh.

"Maybe we should rethink this," he began, his voice quavering.

She never even acknowledged him, just pressed the cloth down and pulled, tearing the fine hairs straight out of his taint. Oh. _God. _He saw white then; sure he'd crossed over to the other side, Paul was convinced this was hell. What did he ever do to deserve this?

On the walk out to the car, he leaned heavily on the evil bitch who'd enticed him here. He could definitely understand the walking funny now. It seemed imperative to walk in a way that kept each tender piece of flesh separate from the other.

He refused to acknowledge her.

Her smug amusement rankled, but there was nothing he could say to make this disappear. Leah was starting to feel just a little bit bad on the ride back to La Push. Sex-on-a-stick was huddled into a pathetic heap in the passenger seat of her Camry, apparently flashing back on his recent trauma.

"Hey, you gonna be okay?"

"Is this what PTSD feels like?"

Poor baby. Gah, since when did Leah Clearwater have a conscience? She couldn't leave him like this though. It seemed, somehow, inhumane.

In a split second decision, that she hoped she wouldn't come to regret, she turned off onto a mostly unused side road and drove to a pretty much vacant portion of the Rez. He was so lost in his horror, she parked the car, got out, and had his door open before he realized what was going on.

"Leah?"

"Shut up."

And then his dick, the poor, abused appendage, was sucked into the inferno of her mouth. The pain didn't matter any more. Nothing did, but her tongue swirling across his sensitive head and the soft hands wrapped tight around what she couldn't swallow down.

"Ah, fuck."

He'd never come so fast in his life. Yeah, she was good, but it was a combination of pain relief and _Christ_, Leah fucking Clearwater was sucking his dick.

When it was over, he lay limp in the passenger seat. "What...?"

"I kissed it better."

Yeah she did.


	7. Who Let The Dog Out?

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary: **Seth has been ribbed by the guys for years for holding onto his V-card, but when he loses it in a penthouse worthy threesome, he goes down in the sex gods hall of fame.

**A/N: **Thanks to my husband for pinch-hitting as beta on this one. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.And thanks for the wonderful reviews and PMs; it's so nice to hear from you guys :)

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
**

**Prompt: ********18. Patience is a virtue.****  
Pen Name: kerigocrazy  
Pairing/Character(s): Seth  
Rating: M **

**Rated for language and smut.**

"**Who let the dog out?"**

_Dear Penthouse,_

_I never thought I'd be writing a letter like this, but sometimes the gods bless us in unexpected ways. I'm an eighteen-year-old Native American, living in the Pacific Northwest, and I recently found myself in an...interesting situation. In an effort to share my good fortune, while keeping my anonymity (which is not easy to do in the "pack" gossip structure of my friends and neighbors) I thought I'd share my story with you._

"Guys! Guys! You have to read this. It could totally have been written by one of us," Quil shrieked, in an admittedly girly voice, as he barreled into the middle of an informal pack meeting in his Alpha's living room.

"Did you really bring a titty mag into Emily's house?" Sam asked, his voice an exaggerated whisper as he glanced toward the kitchen to check for his imprint.

Quil's whole body bristled at that. "This is _not _a titty mag. This is Penthouse. It's literature."

"Right," Sam drawled out, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. The important question is: why is it here?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." Quil was starting to wonder if they needed to work on his Alpha's concentration skills. A few rousing games of memory perhaps?

"Just listen. You can't tell me this doesn't sound like one of us wrote it."

_Upon finally growing into my body, I'll admit to becoming a bit of an attraction around town. My brothers and I are often propositioned, but I'm usually able to brush them off without a second thought. But, two Sundays ago, I was approached by a pair of twins that I hadn't seen since elementary school. And lets just say, their...assets...had visibly increased._

"Holy shit," Paul cut in, a look of awe on his face. "It's your cousins, Jared. Lacey and Candy? Didn't they just move back home? Damn, those _are_ some serious assets."

"Shut the fuck up, dude. They're family."

"I'm trying to read here, people," Quil bit out. Honestly, they were like a bunch of children.

Silence descended as the story unfolded.

_They led me to a secluded corner of a local beach, and since it was already dark, we undressed there with no care for bystanders. It was if they choreographed it. They put on a private show. Plump lips pressed to plump lips. Tiny tongues wrapped around rock-hard nipples. By the time fingers were plunging into pussy, I was tired of watching. With whispered excuses about taking care of the goosebumps lining the closest bare ass, I stepped in and pressed my overheated body against soft skin..._

It was like x-rated story time. Seth couldn't remember a time when the pack had been so still and quiet for so long. Even Leah, who at first had had an outraged look on her face, sat at rapt attention.

No one noticed Emily come around the corner from the kitchen. "What the hell is this?"

"Shh," Sam hushed her, focused intently on what Quil was reading.

"But...really Sam..."

"Not now, baby."

The letter went on to outline positions some of them had never experienced outside of high-dollar porn and sexual skills they liked to brag about, but didn't _actually_ possess. By the time Quil got to the end of the letter, even Emily was sitting at rapt attention.

_...I'm sure you know how this story ends. It was hours of sweat soaked bodies and acrobatics there on the beach. After, nobody clung. It was what it was. _

_As we headed back toward civilization, one of the girls leaned in to whisper, "Happy Birthday. The first time's always the hardest."_

_I wonder still, if I'll ever be that hard again._

_Sincerely,_

_Deflowered in Washington_

"Sweet baby, Jesus," Paul breathed. "That was...beautiful. Shit, who was it?"

Narrowed eyes trailed around the room. It was like a game of clue. Was it Embry, on the beach, with Jared's sweet little cousins? Or had Quil written that letter himself and come to brag. Nah. The idiot could never pull of that level of eloquence. Or swagger.

"Wait," Leah piped in, turning to look, incredulously, at her sweet, baby brother. "It said deflowered."

"No." Sam looked at the pack puppy in true astonishment. He'd been catching flack for years for holding onto his virginity. Sam had just assumed he was, you know, saving himself for something "special."

Quil fell to his knees and prostrated himself at Seth's feet. "I bow down to the Lord of Pussy. Oh please, Young Messiah, won't you spread your method, I mean message, to your followers?"

"Fuck that noise," Paul cut in over the hysterical laughter. He eyed Seth's smug grin and jerked his head toward the door. "Come phase. This is a 'see it and I might believe it' situation."

"You wish, dude," Seth said cheerfully, strolling off to start his patrol.

Over the following week, they stalked him. Pack members took turns randomly popping in during his patrols in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what was quickly becoming more of a draw than a chance to lay hands on the Stanley fucking Cup. Sam was harassed by them all (except for Leah who really didn't want to see it if it was true) to switch patrols around so they could break him.

But he held strong. Until a vampire stepped foot on the Rez, that is.

The howl to arms went up at half-past ten in the evening on the Thursday following the meeting. One by one, they fell into formation, hunting the red-eyed leech that had invaded their territory.

Most of it was a blur; they caught it along the east border, surrounding it and taking turns snapping off pieces. It happened when Seth went in for the kill. He dove over Paul's shoulders, teeth driving straight for the stretch of marble neck, when it's hair, a luxurious black that fell in large curls down it's back, flashed him back to _that _day.

As the youngest pack member tore into the vampire's throat, the rest of the pack stumbled to a halt and stood, awed, as the letter came to life inside their heads. It was tits and ass, so much tanned skin, all in glorious technicolor.

_Beautiful. _Paul may have teared up at the sight.

_Is that even possible? _Embry wondered as they were treated to the athletic sight of what appeared to be an upside down wheelbarrow and the feeling of a second set of lips wrapped around their balls.

_Christ, I'm done._ Leah phased out in a hurry.

The rest of the pack, though, they basked. It seemed as if, now that the flood gates had been opened, there was no shutting them back up.

When the show ended, they phased back, ignoring the numerous prominent erections bobbing free in the wind, and set the vampire to burn. As they turned to leave, Seth knocked Paul in the shoulder, and with a sly grin, he asked the man who'd tormented him the most over his recent virginity, "So, who's a pussy now?"


End file.
